


Faunlock

by ceywoozle



Series: One Word Bottomjohn Prompts [57]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark Sherlock, Faunlock, M/M, non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceywoozle/pseuds/ceywoozle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the One Word Bottomjohn Prompt Series.</p><p>Not everything in the forest can be trusted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faunlock

It’s dark in the forest, the light is almost gone.

"This way," says the creature, hooves tapping against roots and rocks. "Just a little further."

John stumbles and falls, a fresh scrape against his palm as he catches himself on a tree.

"Just a little further," the creature taunts, and John pushes onwards, knowing he has no choice.

It’s been hours. Soon it will be dark. But there’s never been a Faun who’s led a man astray. Has there? Or perhaps those men simply haven’t come back. The chilling thought hits him, only to be pushed aside.

It does him no good. Not now. It’s too late now.

There is a low chuckle from the creature ahead and for the first time John hears the edges of something threatening in that sound. He forces himself onwards. His knife is a reassuring presence at his side, but realistically he knows it will do him little good. Nonetheless, he lets his hand stray against its length. Something familiar, a sense of security that helps him move onwards.

When finally the creature stops it is fully dark and there is a clearing. The beast stands in the middle and John, stumbling out of the last of the trees, falls to his knees in exhaustion.

"Humans are such fools," says the Faun, and John watches the prancing hooves circle around him. The face is handsome, the creature large for its kind, and kneeling on the ground before it, John can’t help but see the jutting length of its cock, dark red and obscene, pushing out from the hair of its body.

"You’ve followed so faithfully," the Faun says. "But there’s only one way out of my forest."

"Please," John says, the word slurring with his weariness, his tongue heavy and his lips stiff. "Tell me what it is."

The Faun cocks his head to the side and smiles, a cold and chilling thing. “Perhaps,” he says. “If you please me, I may not let you go at all.”

Later, when John’s face is pressed into the mold of leaves and soil, when his clothing is gone and there is only the heat of the Faun, the wild thrusting strength of it mating him into the forest floor, John will try to remember the last words his wife said to him, the face of his child bright with laughter, and he will fail.


End file.
